No Help, No Hope
by sometimessupernatural
Summary: ** SET AFTER THE MID SEASON FINALE OF SEASON 11. CONTAINS SPOILERS. YOU'VE BEEN WARNED. ** So Sam's in the Cage. What now? Big brother Dean to the rescue yet again, of course. Hurt!Sam fans and Protective!Dean fans, this is a story for you. This is now complete! Warnings for torture and suicidal thoughts. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**I'll be brief, this starts off just after the mid season finale's end. There's a fair bit of language, so beware. Also, gore is abundant due to Lucifer being able to torture Sam, so... Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: None of the characters and concepts in the following story belong to me. They all belong to Kripke and the owners of Supernatural.**

 **We'll be starting off in Dean's POV by the way.**

* * *

Amara's last words still rippled through his mind. _Maybe now, he'll hear me..._ Definitely not the words of someone expecting to die (or whatever she would do) in the next couple of seconds when who knows how many angels joined together to smite her in "a single unified blow". However, nothing she'd said since her arrival had coincided with who/what Dean expected her to be. _God's sister? Really? Didn't God just... Happen? Spring into existence? Is there gonna be a whole God_ family _to cause problems down the road? Hell-_ With that one word, Dean's mind was racing head on toward the one subject he'd completely forgotten about. Sam. S _tupid ass idea to go have a nice fucking chat with fucking Lucifer and if Sam has done anything stupid I'm gonna-_ His paces were quick, keeping his demeanor calm, but making sure he was efficiently getting by anyone that decided to get into his way, blocking the path to Sam. Sammy. Stupid ass little brother. The phone he was about to call Sam on was already ringing and the bit of hope and relief blooming was quickly staunched, cut away, burned. The familiar three sixes were there, and Dean was tempted to press reject call and phone Sam but what if... Anyway, the call was accepted and the phone at his ear as he sat in the Impala and started her engine, not taking the time to pat the steering wheel lovingly, instead opting to screech away from the curb he was parked at, hoping to- Well, hoping that no police decided to show up as he broke every traffic law he could think of, meanwhile shouting into the phone at his ear.

"The hell do you mean he's _in the fucking cage Crowley?_ No, no, no, _no!_ Don't tell me what happened, tell me how the fuck you're getting _my brother out._ Where do I go, Crowley? Yes, to get to Hell. To the Cage. _Now, Crowley!_ Alright, I'm on the way. Crowley! You believe me, you black eyed _dick_ , when we get him out, you're _dead._ You _and_ Rowena, you hear me? You get him out, we'll talk about quick-" A dial tone rung through Dean's ear as he sped down the back road, a little longer than taking the highway, but still quicker than taking the straight path and having to evade a police car.

"FUCK!" The cell was halfway through its journey to being thrown at the windshield when it rang again, this time a familiar tone. _Sam. SamSamSamSamSamSamSamSamSamSamSamSamSamSam-_

 _"_ Sam?"

The voice that hissed back to him was _not_ Sam.

* * *

"Upper bunk, lower bunk," Lucifer paused for maybe half a second, but hysteria had found its home in Sam, and his breaths were coming faster, though he fought to stay calm. _Calm._

"or you wanna share?" Lucifer finished with a smirk, and the red eyes Sam had first seen in the black corner of the Cage flashed with excitement. There was noise outside the bars, Crowley or Rowena's voices perhaps, but Sam couldn't move, couldn't breathe, only stared at Lucifer, who maintained the facade that Sam had only seen slip once. The sarcastic wit was what Lucifer used to mask his true face, his true evil. The one time Sam had seen it-

"Aw, don't be like that. It'll be fun. Come on, just like last time, bunk mate." Lucifer's patience was thin, paper thin, and it wasted away quickly now. The noise in the background rose. Sam's hand slid down to his pocket, not caring that he knew Lucifer could see exactly what he was doing. He wouldn't ever have a chance. His phone was in his hand now, before it was even out of his pocket, speed dial one was hit, and Lucifer's smirk was transformed into a smile.

"Now, Sam. Three's a crowd, you know. But I suppose I can deliver the bad news. Good thing there's service in Hell, huh Sam?" The hand holding the cell was now by his side, but only for a moment, for Lucifer gripped Sam's wrist with speed he couldn't hope to counter. Mist floated from where Lucifer's hand was wrapped around his skin, the ice cold sinking through to the bone. Sam's mouth opened to scream, only his willpower remembered from the Cage, the memories of so much worse, _so much worse_ , keeping him from letting out any noise as the arm was lifted to hold the phone to Satan's ear.

"Hello, Dean."


	2. Chapter 2

**Yay! You're still here! THIS IS WHERE THE GORE STARTS. Torture, guys. It's a lot of the physical kind. No rape is in this story, so don't worry about that showing up. Sorry, this took 6 days to upload. Christmas and all, I'm sure you guys understand.**

* * *

"Hello, Dean." Lucifer's ( _fucking Satan's)_ voice came through the phone, and _dammit is that Sam in the background he's hurting Sam shit shit shit shit shit_ was all that Dean could register before the devil continued.

"Well Dean, I wanted to thank you for bringing my favorite toy back around. It's so _boring_ here without him, what with Michael refusing to speak to me. If Adam had been booted down here too, well, it'd be a little more interesting. However, my brother Castiel managed to screw that up and kill him with that neat little, and I quote, holy Molotov. Of course I can't give _all_ the credit to you-" With the emphasis on the word _all,_ Lucifer's finger lifted and caressed Sam's wrist, making a black, frostbitten line there that then started to crawl and spread up his arm, dimming the tan skin to white, then blue, then purple, and finally black. Sam couldn't help the _AGhh_ that escaped, followed by whimpers as the skin started to change color, crack, and bleed.

"Lucifer, you son of a bitch, you hurt my brother-" When Lucifer interrupted, Dean pressed harder on the gas, gripping the steering wheel even tighter, his fingers turning as white as his knuckles. The phone made a popping sound as his grip tightened on it also, and he quickly loosened his hold. This was his one connection to Sam, and he'd be damned if he lost it because he couldn't control his anger and broke the damn phone.

"Now, Dean, didn't your mother teach you it isn't polite to interrupt? Anyway, let's go on past the threats, they're horribly repetitive with you. Now to the reason I bothered letting this call run through. I'm assuming you're en route here as we speak?"

"You bet your ass I'm-"

"Ah-ah-ah. I can see the threat at the end of that sentence already and I'm telling you, if I've gotta," Lucifer paused to let Dean hear as Sam let out a not-quite scream when his arm was broken and the bone shoved through his skin, "use other forms of persuasion, I will. Anyways _ss_. the point of this call was to not have you miss out on any of the fun you're missing while you're stuck in that darn car." Satan's voice picked up a note of his usual sarcasm. "What do ya say, pal?" Lucifer pried the cell phone from Sam's frostbitten hand and let him plop to the floor of the cage, where he leaned against the bars, breathing hard as blood poured from the wounds, thankfully all contained to one arm.

"I say, you're a dick. Let me talk to Sam." Dean practically growled into the phone, all semblance of calm ripped from him (if he had any to begin with). Silence came from the other end for so long that Dean had to check that the call hadn't been disconnected. With a sigh, as he _finally_ neared the road to the bunker, he pleaded. "Please."

"You're on speaker, Dean-o." The devil relented, and gave Sam a huge grin. The Winchester on the ground, who usually seemed intimidating, and sometimes downright scary, now had made himself seem diminutive, curled around his hand, seeming to just now have realized how utterly screwed he was. Lucifer's form was still the meatsuit he'd inhabited on Earth, perhaps because he'd lost Sam as a vessel and had reverted back to the previous one. Nick's body would usually not be in any way intimidating to Sam, but he knew what lay underneath. When Lucifer zapped himself to Sam's side, now crouched, and holding the phone between them, he jumped, moving to slide himself away with his uninjured arm, but was quickly halted by the bars of the Cage. Nick's eyes rolled with annoyance, and his mouth moved to say something when Dean interrupted, his voice scratchy from the cheap cell in Satan's hand.

"Sam? Sam! Listen Sam, I'm on the way, I promise. Just listen to what I'm saying, right now, okay? Sam? Sam!" Sam's eyes flicked between the phone and Lucifer warily as he tried to root himself and reclaim some calm, even though he was _back in the Cage oh God I'm back I'm back I'm back I-_

"Dean?" When Dean heard his brother's voice, the knot in his throat, and the one in his stomach, and his chest, all loosened as he thanked whoever or whatever was determining what happened anymore, Fate or Destiny, or hell, even God. Because his brother wasn't dead.

"Yeah, Sam. How you holding up, huh?" The Winchester code for: How bad are you hurt, hospital or hotel, how are you dealing with the latest crisis, and are you okay? Now, though it seemed to have taken an entirely new meaning, because this was an entirely new situation. This wasn't some normal baddie monster, or some human who thought they were tough enough to overpower the Winchesters. This was _Satan, Lucifer,_ the one who tortured Sam for-

"I'm, ah, alright, _Agh._ It's been wor- _R_ _mph-_ Worse." Lucifer had decided to reach over to the exposed, white bone protruding from Sam's broken arm and flick it with his finger repeatedly, mildly jarring it enough to hurt like a bitch, but not nearly enough to work Sam up.

"Well, just hold on, okay Sam? I'll be there soon, I promise. You'll be fine. I'm gonna get you out." Sam's eyes closed momentarily as he decided to not believe that. If he didn't and, by some miracle, Dean got him out, then he'd be even more elated. If he did believe it, and Dean couldn't, he'd just be broken.

"Okay, Dean." Dean was _finally_ at the bunker, screeching the Impala to a halt and running inside to find Crowley looking... _Nervous._ They were soon on their way to Hell, only a few minutes away now from being at the Cage.

"Alright boys, sorry to break up this great angst-fest," Lucifer interrupted, "but I've got plans. Don't worry Dean-o, you'll stay on speaker." He placed the phone on the opposite side of the small cell-like cage as Sam forced himself to his feet, the two then staring at each other, one with wary eyes, slightly shivering, and with a clenched jaw,the other leaning casually against the bars, a witty smirk on his lips, his eyes full of contained glee. _What would Jess think of me now? What about Mom, Dad, and Bobby?_ Lucifer's smirk flashed to a grin. And then it all went to Hell. (Pun intended.)


	3. Chapter 3

Lucifer's sudden grin sent a shockwave of fear through Sam, his hands gripping the bars of the Cage tighter than before as he resumed the standoff they were engaged in. It wasn't really a standoff, though. It was Sam hoping to God Dean hurried the hell up, and Lucifer deciding what he wanted to do first. When Dean was suddenly at the Cage, yelling at Sam, looking like he was _really freaking close_ to reaching into the Cage and grabbing him and trying to pull him through the bars and just- And then he looked at Dean's face, and started listening to the words his brother was saying.

"You're not my brother, Sam. After all you've done, you aren't my little brother, not anymore! Mark or no Mark, demon or not, I know a monster when I see one." Dean's voice had slowed and sounded a little warped. Dean continued, cutting through his thoughts, the words sinking into his brain. Why was Dean saying this? On the phone, he'd- Dammit, Sam had forgotten about the phone. There it still was, sitting in the corner, the screen lit up, the call still going through, and _this Dean's phone is still in his pocket._ When he'd pieced it together, he chanced a glance at Lucifer, having almost forgotten about him. Everything seemed kinda _slow_. It was like Sam had just woken up after pretty bad injury and he was still getting himself rooted in where he was and what was going on. Everything was still sharp and easy to see, but he just couldn't _understand_ what was happening. Lucifer was still standing in the same spot as earlier, but his eyes radiated a reddish color, seeming snakelike, as well as his tongue, that flicked out of his mouth every once in a while as he mouthed the words the Dean yelling at him was saying. Huh. Now it made sense. That made it no less terrifying when the slitted eyes locked on him, and the mouth on Nick's face stretched ear to ear with what would have been a comical grin if the skin hadn't split at the corners to form it. Nick's face turned into Dean's and then the Dean outside the bars was _inside_ the bars but now his mouth had the same smile as Lucifer but he was still saying things, and his eyes were still his, and that was the worst part _almost_.

"Charlie was like our little sister, Sam, and she was happy. She was so damn happy, Sam. And you got her killed, you _killed her_!" There was no outside the Cage anymore. There was only blackness, void of anything. No candles and sigils anymore. Nothing, and now- "We had to _burn her body_ , Sam! _You_ deserve to _BURN."_ Fire was everywhere, Dean was melting, his skin charring, his eyes, his fingers, all around the Cage was on fire. Sam thought he heard his own screams over the roaring of fire and blood in his ears. _Mom_.

"Samuel Winchester." Mary was clothed in the same white gown worn on the night of her death, her hair singed at the ends, half of her face burnt, her teeth all the way back to the molars showing through the destroyed skin. The slit on her stomach wasn't dripping, possibly not bleeding, but still, the gown's front was saturated with blood there in the middle, otherwise unharmed and perfectly white, despite the burns on her face. The roaring fire stayed, but its noise faded into the background. "Why don't you sit down, and tell me where _my baby_ is, where _my_ Sammy is, hmm?" Sam's mouth opened and then shut. Nothing he could say would help his situation. There was nothing to do but wait, not for death, but for pain. Pain was the only oblivion available in Hell. Mary seemed to become more agitated and angry with the lack of response and raised her hand, much like Sam would when using his demon blood abilities, and he was slammed to a sitting position against the bars, his arms strapped to them with soft, padded restraints.

"I want your focus on the pain I'm giving you personally, you son of a bitch."She had adopted the demeanor of a trained hunter, as she had been raised. The woman's eyes suddenly flashed, not supernaturally, but with manic anger and pain. Her face contorted in confusion, the kind seen in ghosts often as they would attack, as she screamed in a now inhuman voice that transcended and echoed over and over, piercing and hammering everywhere, over and over. She screamed the words again and again as she crouched down and sat between his legs.

" _Where is Sammy?"_ Her fingers were digging through his insides now as she crouched in front of him, seeming to burrow into his chest. She caught onto a rib, _oh God_ , and she tugged. _Crack._ Sam felt this scream in his lungs, in his throat. She pulled out an intestine, and dangled it in his face. She laughed.

* * *

Crowley being nervous was a major red flag as soon as Dean walked into the bunker. Crowley didn't do _nervous_. Crowley kept himself collected and authoritative, and most importantly, arrogant and cocky, always. Of course, this was the most monumental screw up that Crowley had ever performed, and Dean was the one person Crowley didn't fuck around with.

"What happened, Crowley?"

"I don't _know._ My mother is one of the best witches on Earth, and her sigils failed. She doesn't _fail,_ she- Damn." Crowley hadn't stopped on the path of dirt and the occasional bone, but his step had stuttered before continuing, in sync with his words.

"What?" Dean's voice was gruff, his feet on the verge of stepping on the backs of the demon's shoes.

"She _meant_ for them to fail. Or, well, I _did_ hear Lucifer talk of 'damage to the Cage' on Amara's... Departure. It is possible if the Cage is damaged that he is able to reach out-"

A laugh caught Dean's attention immediately, sending him sprinting past Crowley and down the path, ignoring the whispers of other demons trapped there. Lucifer's laugh cut through his skin, and seemed to split his heart in two.

" _Winchesterssss_. _Have some bones to_ pick _with you..."_

 _"Run Winchester, you're already too late. Satan has broken your brother before..."_

 _"He'll do it again, eeeasy..."_

 _"Come back, Winchester? Couldn't resist the fun you had with a knife in your hand?"_

 _"Baby brother's already gone Dean-o. Might as well run home to Mommy..."_

 _"Oh, no. Azazel took care of that whore..."_

Laughter echoed as he finally came into the clearing and saw the Cage. And his little brother.

"Oh my God."


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi guys, I'm back! So recap,**

 **-Sam's torture has begun (physical and emotional)**

 **-Dean has just arrived, with Crowley, at the Cage**

 **Thank you so so much for the reviews!**

 **cammiemorris7- Ahhhh! Thank you! More is coming right up!**

 **ktdog1- Thank you so much! That review really meant a lot to me, and motivated me to finish this tonight!**

 **Okay, then. Here we go!**

* * *

Once, when Sam was ten, he'd gotten kidnapped by a shapeshifter. The thing only had him for a day, but it was long enough for Sam to get several fairly deep cuts on his arms, for the shifter to turn into the kid, and for Sam to get traumatized. Whether the cuts were torture or simply the damn thing being an asshole, Dean hadn't ever figured out. Anyway, finding his baby brother there, tied to a chair in a storm cellar at an abandoned house, bleeding and sobbing, blindfolded and almost blue with cold, had been _almost_ the worst day of his life. Sam had been just a kid. He wasn't even researching hunts that weren't ghosts yet. After that night, the youngest in their small family had grown up fast. He'd learned how to be a Winchester quickly, mostly from John's "tough love" strategies. Dean hadn't thought about that day often, mostly because he felt guilty as hell anytime he did. Now, however, the guilt was worming its way to the back of his mind. Because Lucifer had apparently decided to reenact the event, with a few exaggerations, because Dean sure as hell didn't remember Sam missing any body parts then.

"Oh my God." Dean only whispered it, but Lucifer turned to him from his place beside the little Sam, and put a finger to his smiling lips. His eyes were a deep red glow, and his forked tongue showed when he smiled or mouthed the words being said to Dean's brother. Sam wasn't blindfolded, but when Dean tentatively walked up until he was only a few feet from the Cage, there was still no reaction from his little brother. Of course, he was a little distracted with his own ten year old self standing there with a knife in its hand. Sam was tied to a chair, exactly the same way as that day, and, worryingly, was staring straight into the small Sam's eyes blankly. It wasn't only worrying because of the absolute shit the mini Sam was spewing from his mouth, but also because Sam was _missing fingers._ The old slashes were in the same places as last time, and Dean wondered if the shifter said all this, or even some of it, to Sam the first time, too. Crowley caught up and sauntered to Dean's side, looking at the reenactment of Sam's memory in front of them.

"Now, I have to say-" Before Crowley could finish his half-hearted, witty remark, Dean had a blade against the demon's neck and was seething. His chest rose and fell harshly, rose and fell, rose and fell, _rose and fell, rose and fell, rose and fell_ , before he calmed himself to a point at which he could focus on something other than his breathing without hyperventilating. The urge to kill something, to kill anything really, was so strong and overwhelming that he glanced involuntarily at his forearm to check for the Mark that had gotten them into this whole mess. It was like taking a step back in time to when the Mark had given him this exact feeling 24/7. Was it back? No, but killing Crowley would certainly feel damn good. What use did he have, anyway? Rowena was the one who knew something, who'd drawn the sigils. She would know what went wrong. So why not take out every emotion going through himself, and take it out on Crowley? Why not slit his throat and let him die? Why not-

"You could kill him, Dean, and leave Sam to rot in that Cage for eternity," The familiar voice drew Dean to turn to the passage the pair had just come through to see the owner the mouth that had spoken. "or you could let the demon go, and turn to me. If you chose that, I would let Sam out, let you both continue on your way, and contain Lucifer in the process." Crowley, too, had turned toward the woman standing before them.

"How did you-" Dean began, but was cut off by her.

"Survive being smote by thousands of angels at once? Dean, I told you, I'm God's _sister_. You think his winged cherubs could kill me? No." For once, the king of Hell was surprisingly silent, until Dean realized he had fled, zapping himself away. Glancing at the Cage, and realizing he hadn't heard a single sound from inside since Amara's arrival, he opened his mouth to mention the fact when he was, again, interrupted.

"They don't know I'm here, and to them, you vanished. We're invisible to them, and I blocked the sounds of your brother's torture from you. I thought you'd be able to focus more easily. I can see your question already, and I'm prepared to answer. When I said I wanted you to turn to me, all I mean is that I wish for you to listen fully to what I have to say once the time comes for me to tell you. I want you to listen to me, and what I have to say. I will not harm you, nor your brother, nor your angel, if you do what I ask." Everything around them turned black, obscuring his brother from view. All that was visible occasionally were Lucifer's eyes, and a glimmer of yellow irises every now and again. There was silence for a long minute, until Dean spoke.

"And how do I know that's the truth?"

"Because you released me, and we are bonded. I am doing this for you, not for any unforeseen benefits on my end, Dean." A shuddering breath was drawn into his lungs and released. His chest rose and fell, rose and fell, rose and fell. Amara saw the ease of which she could hasten his answer, and opened the bubble around them, one soft word from Sam's lips reaching Dean's ear.

" _D-Dean,"_

"Okay. I'll do it."


	5. Chapter 5

**Next chapter is here! Hope you all enjoy!**

 **Recap: Dean has arrived, and Amara has appeared, offering to get Sam out of the Cage in exchange for Dean listening to her side of the story. Dean has just agreed.**

* * *

Sam remembered when he was ten and was trapped in that storm cellar by the shifter. He remembers all the shit it had told him and how it had changed into himself, then sliced into his arms and told him how pretty his blood was. It had told him that it was too bad his blood was tainted. Unclean. Impure. But so pretty. Lucifer wasn't usually hands on, rather using his little creations to have better dramatic impact. This was rather typical, recreating a bad memory with a few exaggerations as torture. Other times, though, he'd get really creative. Those were the worst. However, the mini Sam in front of him, just like all those years ago, the storm cellar all around him instead of bars, was a bit overwhelming. He was shaking.

"-all your fault Mommy died. You know, Azazel could've just burned us and all this wouldn't even have happened. Adam wouldn't exist either, so there wouldn't be two brothers to start the Apocalypse. And Dean wouldn't have had to take care of us _ever._ Remember in Alabama? Remember what he said? He never wanted to take care of us! It was another job. Take care of the monster. Except this time he didn't get to kill it. He had to drag us around 24/7. For his entire _life_. Thank God we're back here. He was happiest with Lisa and Ben anyway, y'know, when we were here _last time. Anyway,_ now I can take care of you. It's your fault I turned out like you. You ruined me. I was gonna be a lawyer. I was gonna be _happy_." The kid Sam had tears running down his face now, but the color seemed weird. It was murky, dirty saltwater, the tears leaving streaks of brown specks on his cheeks. He lifted his arm and used the sleeve to wipe his tears away, mostly. The knife in his hand caught his eye.

"If I'm gonna turn out to be like you, I don't even wanna live anymore." The knife was turned, and plunged into his own stomach. A duplicate wound appeared in the real Sam's abdomen, and his mouth opened in shock. Then the small Sam simply stood there, knife lodged in his stomach, blood slipping down his shirt soaked with it already, hands at his sides, his blank eyes staring into his older self's. Fire erupted then over the both of them, skin bubbling and burning. Screams only came from one of them however, while the other simply stood there, watching with cold eyes amid the heat of the flame. Watching him burn.

"D- _DEAN!"_

* * *

Amara didn't take long. As soon as he gave the word, she smiled sympathetically, almost lovingly, and raised a hand toward the Cage. The bubble burst exposing him to all the sights and sounds in the Cage, and Dean saw fire all over his brother, killing his brother _, dammit killing him dammit oh my God the screams-_ All of a sudden Sam had vanished from inside the Cage, appearing in front of Amara, her hands on each of his shoulders, slightly looking up to see into Sam's eyes. He wasn't hurt, but was still shaking, his hands and shoulders the worst. He took a moment to realize who he was looking at, or rather, to realize who he was looking at wasn't Lucifer or himself, and then back pedaled, trying to break away from Amara, and failing. Her hands remained solid on his shoulders, holding them as they shuddered. The ancient being that had been locked away for so long, somehow seeming the opposite of a monster at that moment, zapped the brothers to the bunker's library then, but only after saying something to Sam that Dean couldn't make out.

* * *

The pain was over quickly, the burning, bubbling, melting sensation vanishing like a blown out flame, though it did leave Sam's skin tingling. A woman stood in front of him, and all he could think of was Dean's words describing the Darkness. Amara. Her hands were on his shoulders, and though he tried to back away, it did no good. Her arms didn't tremble, and her face remained the same, the pity in _the thing's_ eyes clear. _It's not human. It was locked up for a reason._

"Lucifer was cruel, even when he was God's servant. When he threw me into my prison, he neglected to hear my cries of anguish for the injustices handed to me by God. But now... Now he is worse than any I have seen. I am sorry for what has happened to you, Sam." There was no perceivable emotions in her voice but the aforementioned pity and sympathy. "Dean made a deal with me to release you, but only in exchange for his agreement to listen when I come to tell him the true story behind my imprisonment. For now, though, I can see that neither of you are up to a discussion of that... Magnitude. I will ensure that the Devil does not get the chance to harm you again." When Amara received no answer but a barely there nod, a sigh left her that seemed almost human. With no concluding goodbyes, only the mysterious nature of her small speech, Sam found himself in the bunker, his brother by his side in the seconds it took for him to slide to the ground and place his head in his hands.

"Oh my God, Sam." Dean enveloped him in a hug, the older brother's chest heaving with breaths of panic finally being tamped down. There was nothing for the little brother to say, though that could've been some shock left over from the return trip he'd just left. "Oh my _God, Sammy."_ Dean just kept holding him against his chest, his position on the floor uncomfortable, though he didn't notice for the first thirty minutes. After that came the once over as he finally separated.

"Sammy?" There was no answer, the younger's eyes dull and unfocused. Dean didn't know what to do to help Sam for the first time in his life. The first time he'd come back he hadn't been like this.

"Let- Uh, let's get you to bed real quick, okay? Or you wanna sit down? I can pull a chair-" Sam's head shook clumsily, saying no clearly. "Gotcha, Sam. Come on, you got this. Okay. You're okay, I got you. You're okay, it's okay now." Autopilot took over soon in his baby brother's head, getting him to the bed before shorting out. Through the whole ordeal, his face stayed blank. Emotionless. When he fell asleep, Dean sat and waited for the nightmares to begin. Through the next week, slowly, singular parts of his brain seemed to come back on. He showered the next day, but didn't talk until the fifth, and only ventured beyond yes and no on the eighth day. Occasionally he would panic. He'd sit down, put his head in his hands and breathe hard, deep, and fast for however long it took him to recover.

Dean knew that once he became his Sam again, there would only be so much time until the breakdown where he would get Dean to have a whole girl moment. It would truly be worth it though, if it would fix his baby brother, because this? It wasn't working.


	6. Chapter 6

**Okay guys. Here we are. Final stretch. Last lap. I just want to thank everyone who followed, favorited, and reviewed, All of you gave me great motivation. However, cammiemorris7, you managed to review a few times, and each time, leave a message that made me smile. Thank you especially. To anyone newly reading this story, thank you too for finding your way here. Here we go!**

It had been a month now. An entire month since the Darkness had plucked Sam from his worst nightmare ( _well, second worst_ ) and plopped him back in the bunker with an overprotective Dean and too many memories clamoring for attention. He had been in that cage a long time. At least, it felt like it. Old memories of the torture he had been put through were blending with the new ones and being made fresh in his mind. Dean was worried. Sam didn't have the energy, nor the motivation to care.

Sam had never in his life kneeled before someone and had the intention of letting them kill him. Until he did, just a few months ago. He had kneeled before _Dean_ , his brother, who had been ready to slice into his neck with a scythe given to him by Death. Then, he hadn't been ready to die, but he'd been resigned to it. Now, however, it was the opposite.

Castiel was worried. He followed Sam around the bunker, in a manner the angel apparently thought was nonchalant and inconspicuous. Once, the younger man had woken to a hand on his forehead, running through his long hair, gracing his cheek. Then, whispered words barely reached his ear before unconsciousness had covered him like a soft blanket of black.

"Sam. Please stay." Apparently the angel had been reading thoughts, because that day, he'd been cleaning a gun out of nowhere, and words from years ago drifted into his mind.

"You know where to aim, cowboy... It ends when you can't take it anymore... I think that's maybe why we're cleaning our guns..." The unloaded Taurus had clattered onto the table, and Sam's stuttering breath had grown faster. No. No. Nonononononono-

"Sam? Sam! You okay? Are you-"

"Going crazy again? No. I'm _fine_ , Dean." Before his big brother's disbelieving eyes could convince him to break down, Sam left the table, and walked calmly to his room.

But Castiel was... In the library, where he could hear everything. And sense everything, if he wanted to. And he had.

How much had those thoughts affected Sam? More than he cared to admit. He'd stared at his wrists for an hour, tracing the soft blue lines there with his eyes. Blue inside, red outside.

* * *

The day after his nighttime visit from Cas, he took out a knife and traced the veins on his arm with it. _The boy with the demon blood..._ _An abomination..._ He'd paid for his sins in Hell, but that wasn't enough. Nothing would ever be enough. The door flying open noiselessly startled him, and the man jumped, trying to figure out a plausible story to explain him sitting on his bed with a knife in his hand and a suicide note he'd written when he was sixteen lying beside him. To Sam's surprise, it wasn't Dean that walked in. Castiel's hands ripped away the knife and grabbed his shoulders before he could react.

"What are you _doing_ , Samuel? Are you, the man that survived a round in Hell's darkest pit, the man who nearly completed three trials for a Godly purpose, only stopping to save your brother from certain fatal grief, going to give up? Sam Winchester, you _ass!"_

 _"_ I wasn't gonna-"

"Had I given you another two and a half hours, yes, you would have. You have _no sense_ of the pain you would cause with your absence. Your brother, and I, do not only want you here. We need you here. You are no burden, no demon-spawn, nor tool for destruction or death. " The gravelly voice echoed in the bunker, down the halls, and Sam wondered when Dean would show up.

"I don-"

"Lucifer only wanted to break you down, Sam. He used the most painful methods he could, knowing he had only limited time. You _were_ alone, Sam, and now you are not." The reject angel now sat with him on the middle of the bed. Sam watched him take the ratty, old note and place it on his nightstand.

"We care about you. You can not believe otherwise. You and your brother are infuriatingly horrible with communication of your own problems, but you two are all I currently have. We are family now. And I will help you leave _this_ behind. I'm sure Dean-"

"No. I'm not telling him about this, and you're not telling him. Please." A moment of hesitation crossed Cas' face.

"Okay. But you talk to me about this. Unlike your brother, I do not sleep. I am always here, and you will not be a bother." Sam's throat seemed suddenly tight, and he swallowed before nodding. Distantly, the bunker door closed and Dean shouted that he'd brought food.

"Uh, Cas? I kinda wanna talk to Dean. Privately."

"I will be here. Or in the library."

"Thanks."

"You are welcome, Sam."

* * *

The rabbit food was neatly set at the table, across from Dean's greasy, though not as bad as usual, fast food. The oldest Winchester was preparing to finally drag Sam in here and provoke the girl moment at this point, because Sammy needed it. That was how he coped, and it wasn't the worst way Dean could think of. When he had all the food placed perfectly, he noticed Sam standing awkwardly at the entrance to their dining/research room. Quickly sitting down in his chair, embarrassed at having been caught organizing plastic forks beside plates and Styrofoam cups, Dean slipped a soft smile on his face. As he opened his mouth to speak, Sam beat him to it.

"I need to talk. About Hell."

And that was probably the best damn news Dean could remember hearing.


End file.
